


all the living are dead, and the dead are all living

by h_mellohi



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dream Smp, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Good Wilbur Soot, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hugs, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Lore? i don't know her, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Protective Wilbur Soot, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, all i know is let tommy hug wilbur and say goodbye, no beta we die like vilbur o7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28866345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_mellohi/pseuds/h_mellohi
Summary: It's the chance to change a hundred horrid things they wished they could have prevented for themselves. It's a chance to save lives, scars, and sanity. It's a chance to say goodbye.(title from 'in our bedroom after the war' by stars)
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Tubbo & TommyInnit (Dream SMP), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit (Dream SMP)
Comments: 58
Kudos: 471





	all the living are dead, and the dead are all living

**Author's Note:**

> what? lore? tommy and tubbo are going to fight dream tomorrow? prison? sorry, all I've got is this entirely self-indulgent fic where I let tommy see wilbur again. enjoy!

The two boys stared in utter shock at him, and Karl could only stare back, biting down nervous laughter, now stuck with the consequences of being truthful of his whereabouts. He had hoped that they wouldn’t believe him and would just brush it off like others had done. But there was a spark of serious intensity in their eyes that was more than enough to inform Karl that he would not be slipping away from this one.

“Wh- you’re a time traveler?” Tubbo nearly shouted, eyes wide with alarm and curiosity.

“Really?” Tommy asked. Gears turned in his head, and as he thought up a plan, his mouth repeated that word in the same incredulous tone.

Frozen wind rushed around them, carrying their words away, and Karl shivered. He cleared his throat, not sure if he liked the matching looks of intrigue in both their eyes. It felt too much like being on display, or cornered by predators that stalked around him in a circle. “Yeah, I- I am.”

“Wh- that’s so cool!” Tubbo exploded, laughing with genuine excitement. Karl smiled tentatively back, laughing far less joyously.

“What the hell, man, how come you didn’t tell us?” Tommy barked, brows furrowed with a faraway look in his eyes. “We could- we could- I mean, this is insane, what the hell?”

Tubbo gasped. “Could we go visit our past selves, could we- how far back can you go, Karl?”

Karl shrugged, finding it strange to talk so candidly about his experiences after years of saying nothing. “I- I mean, I’ve been, I’ve been so far in the past I’ve met some of the ancestors of the people here, if that’s what you mean?”

“What about the future? Karl, what happens in our future, do we-” Excitement faded to quiet fear as Tubbo’s voice tapered off, looking to the time traveler to extrapolate meaning from his half-finished sentence. His eyes wandered, tracing patterns of ice on the trees around them with his fingers.

“Uh, listen guys, even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you. Pretty sure that’d break some sorta, I dunno, time traveler law and I’d lose my license.”

“Do you actually have a license, then?” Tommy questioned. “Can we see it?”

“I do not actually have a license, no,” Karl said truthfully. “And I’ve never met anyone else who can do this, probably. But I’m still not going to tell you,” he finished quickly. 

“Aw, man,” Tubbo groaned, pouting at Karl. “That’s so lame.”

“Well, what about our past selves?” Tommy continued. “Can we go somewhere in our past, can we see like- uh-”

“The revolution!” Tubbo crowed, suddenly invigorated again. “Tommy, what if we went back to the revolution, and, and we told them about Eret, then maybe we wouldn’t lose a life, we’d have two again!”

Karl’s apprehensive smile turned to something much sadder. “It… won’t change anything for you guys.”

“What?” Tommy asked. “Why not, it’s our past we’re changing, right?”

The time traveler shook his head. “All it will do is change the future for a different timeline. The second you guys interfere in the past it creates a new future, it won’t change anything about what happens to you guys.”

“Well then, there’s no consequence, yeah?” Tubbo asked. “It won’t screw up the butterfly effect or anything, right? We can still do this?”

Karl hesitated, and in that second of hesitation Tommy cut in. “If you don’t do it we’ll tell everyone that you’re a time traveler, bitch!”

“Yeah!” Tubbo cheered, and Karl’s eyes flew wide.

“Guys!” he sputtered. “You’re trying to blackmail me? What the honk?” He crossed his arms, feigning any emotions to cover up his quickly crumbling resolve. 

“Yeah, bitch!” Tommy responded jovially before quickly dropping his tone to something much more serious. “In all seriousness though, please, Karl. Even if we can’t change our futures, at least we can make that one a little bit better, yeah? So please, man. Let us go back there, to warn them of some of the shit we went through.”

Karl sighed, and with the most reluctance he had said anything in all the times he had lived, responded, “Alright.”

There were whooping cheers from both the boys, and Karl thought he had never seen them more like the kids they were than at that moment, and that was enough to convince himself he had made the right decision. Still, he held out a hand, stopping them both in their excited movements. “There’s a problem, though, I can’t just take you guys back there.”

“What? Why not?” Tommy repeated incredulously. “What the fuck.”

“Ok, guys, listen. It- the only way it works is a two way street. I can take one of you back, but your past self will appear here. It’s some kind of way of the universe keeping two of you from being in the same place for whatever reason, I don’t really understand it’s just how time travel works,” Karl rambled, punctuating his words with a frown. “That’s honestly why I rarely time travel anywhere in this generation, because I just get myself swapped out with another version of me. It’s weird, and not very fun. You guys sure you still want to do this?”

“Of course,” Tubbo said, nodding with that strong conviction that Karl proudly watched develop in him in his presidency. He nodded in returned

“Alright, okay. Who’s going to go? Who am I swapping out?” Karl looked between the two, but it wasn’t more than a second before a voice stepped forward.

“Me,” Tommy said resolutely, trembling hands clenched at his sides.

“Aw, man!” Tubbo complained. “I want to go to the past, it’d be so cool.”

“I’m only doing this for you guys once, so you only get one shot.”

“Tommy-” Tubbo began, but was cut off.

“Tubbo, please.” There was a thread of vulnerability to Tommy’s voice, causing it to tremble despite the careful control in the rest of his tone. “It has to be me, I have to go back, because it’s before the election, before everything, which means-” his voice broke, but Tubbo’s eyes softened with understanding.

“Oh,” he said, leaving Karl the only one in the dark. “Of course, man. But if you’re going, then you should- we should write stuff down, yeah? For me to tell the younger- the past you.”

“Yeah, let’s- Karl, do you have a book and quill or anything like that?” Karl shook his head in response to Tommy’s question, and the blond deflated. “Alright. Let’s go get one- there’s probably something in my house.”

“That’s probably better, anyways,” Karl said as they made the trek out of the forest covered hills to Tommy’s dirt house. “I can find you a lot easier if you and your past self are in the same spot, and that should be easy at your house.”

“And it’s not like the camarvan or any part of L’manberg is stable ground,” Tubbo muttered, a bit mournfully.

“Are you going to tell the other me about L’manberg?” Tommy asked.

Tubbo hummed. “I don’t know. Do you want me to?”

“I’d want to know everything,” Tommy said firmly. “A complete fucking history of everything that happens, everyone that betrays us, so I don’t make the same fucking mistakes again.”

Tubbo looked at his friend sadly. “I think there’s something to be said for letting these other versions of us make their own choices, at some point. I know I wouldn’t like my whole life to be dictated by what might happen, even if we change a bunch.”

“But what if we don’t?” Tommy bit out. “What if they don’t believe us about Eret, what if nothing changes and we still have to go through everything we’ve gone through.”

Tubbo shrugged. “I mean, we’ve made it so far, haven’t we? That’s part of being human. Not knowing what happens next, but figuring it out all the same. But, the least we can do is give them some immediate help, yeah?”

Tommy fell silent, and Karl felt his face stick in confused concern. Having not been involved in Tommy and Tubbo’s lives as much as some of the others, he only had vague clues as to what past events they were referencing. Still, their conversations hung in the air as something much heavier, bigger than themself. Karl didn’t understand it, but found himself hoping that what they were doing would bring them at least some solace to the weights they carried on their shoulders

They reached the dirt house, and the three of them stepped through the oak doors and under the dirt roof that homed Tommy.

“Tommy, why is your house dirt?” Karl asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before, why is it so bad?”

“Listen, dickhead,” Tommy shouted, crescendoing from his previously quiet tone towards Tubbo. “I don’t come wandering over to where you live and ask why your builds are shit, so fuck off, alright. I like my greentop, so piss off.”

“He does like his greentop,” Tubbo agreed. “Wait- Karl where do you live?”

“Oh, well, I had my house in L’manberg, and uh, now I don’t.” Karl frowned. “It got destroyed with everything else.” He hadn’t actually thought about that before now, and his chest pulsed in grief as he realized what he had lost alongside everyone else. That nation wouldn’t ever collect dust and stand dilapidated and empty for Karl to visit years from now when everyone else had moved on. It would forever scar the earth, an ugly pit being the only reminder of the nation that had stood for so long. 

“That’s what I thought, bitch,” Tommy grumbled, digging through his chests. “So you can’t really make fun of my house when you’re fuckin’ homeless, ey?”

“Yeah… sorry, Tommy,” Karl murmured, mind somewhere else entirely.

“Right, I’ve got the book and quill.” Ignoring Karl now, Tommy turned to Tubbo, quill wet with ink and book open, balanced on top of a chest between them. “What’re we writing?”

Karl stepped outside as they wrote, looking out at the land before them. He played a movie of his memories in his mind, watching this place be built up, destroyed, and built up again. He watched houses burn to the ground, blackstone towers be dismantled, and craters litter the earth. Each settling explosion carved out another piece of Karl’s heart for the land that would one day be forgotten by everyone except him and the immortal being that held this server in his humanoid hand.

Tubbo listened and watched his friend write down the things they both deemed important enough that it could possibly change history. Despite the vigor with which he spoke, Tommy still looked just as exhausted as he had every day since he had returned to Tubbo’s side, and that hazy gray emptiness in his eyes was something Tubbo had reluctantly gotten used to seeing on him whatever his outward emotions exhumed. Still, Tubbo clung to the hope that someday, when things were better, and no one was trying to hurt them anymore, that Tubbo would see Tommy’s eyes the right shade again.

They finished writing and stood. Tommy shouted out to Karl, who turned back to the entrance of the house and the young boys who awaited him. Ink stained the blond’s fingers, and Tubbo had a swipe of it across his forehead, but he was holding the book and grinning widely, bouncing on his heels in subtle excitement. 

Karl swallowed down his own nervousness, and nodded. “You guys ready?” he asked. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” Tommy said firmly, and Karl caught sight of that ever-burning fire within him, the fire that so many had tried to put out and never fully succeeded. It warmed him, curling in his chest and filling his own heart with courage.

“This is our one shot to try and fix it for us. Well, not us, but you know what I mean,” Tubbo continued. “Maybe another version of us can have a happy ending.”

Tommy nodded resolutely. “Let’s go.”

“Alright, guys.” Karl stepped over, and laid a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. He felt the subtle flinch under his hand, and a shadow briefly passed over Tommy’s face as he muttered something under his breath that Karl didn’t catch. “Uh, so the thing is I’ve never actually brought someone to the present before, and since I hadn’t found this land yet when you guys were fighting for independence, I don’t know if I’ll- if another me will show up with the other- you know, the other you, I’m not sure, guys, I haven’t really done this before!” Nervous laughter bubbled from Karl’s throat, the brief spark of courage flickering out. “Maybe this isn’t going to work, I just don’t know, guys.”

“Karl.” Tommy’s voice was steady and serious, and he turned, looking at Karl with more sincerity than Karl had ever seen from the teen. “Please. You’ve got this, big man. We need to do this.”

Karl swallowed tightly, nodded, and pulled out his pocket watch from his jacket pocket, feeling it thrum underneath his fingertips. Tommy stared at it, entranced by the swirling of the hands, and Tubbo gripped the book so tightly that the leather creased underneath his fingertips.

|||

Then they were gone. Tubbo inhaled sharply, blinking twice to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. There was no flashing lights, no warbling noise, no sign that there had been time travel at all. The only thing Tubbo could hear was the settling of the dirt around him, and the quiet ticking of a clock. 

Then Tommy was there, bright blue eyes darting around with an alarmed expression on his face, the tail end of a sentence fading from his lips. The book fell from Tubbo’s already shaking hands, pages flipping open on the ground as Tubbo pressed his hands to his mouth, choking back noises of shock and grief upon seeing his best friend in that uniform of a time so far in the past that it had already felt like a distant memory. 

“Tubbo?” Tommy looked around, confusion clear in every line of his face. “Where’s Wilbur, and Fundy, and- why aren’t you wearing your uniform, man, what the hell happened-” Confusion faded to shock as Tubbo regained control of his breathing and lowered his hands from his face. “Tubbo? Holy shit, man, the fuck happened to your face, what?” Tommy lunged forward, grabbing Tubbo’s face in his hands and examining the scars that spattered Tubbo’s face and neck and below like he had never seen them before, which, Tubbo supposed, he hadn’t.

“Hey, man. So, uh,” Tubbo had already forgotten the short script he and Tommy had hurriedly prepared, shock and nostalgia erasing it from his mind. He stepped back, putting some distance between his oldest friend in a failed effort to lessen the pain in his chest. “Sorry, you’re- we sort of brought you to the future. Just for a bit, because, well, we have a friend- you haven’t met him yet, but he can- well, you know, obviously do that. Because you’re here.”

Tommy scrambled backward then, the realization setting in. “What the fuck!” He screeched, a carbon copy of Tommy on his best days. “I’m in- how far in the future am I, why did you bring me, here, where’s- where’s everyone else?”

“Uh, everyone else should still be back where you’re from, and apparently the way time travel works is we just briefly swap Tommys? So the Tommy from right now is back there where you were, and uh, listen, Karl never gave us a time limit so we should probably do this quickly.” Tubbo hurried to pick up the book, leafing through the pages until he found the still drying ink of what he and Tommy had scribbled down. Some of it was smudged, but Tubbo was pretty sure he could read most of it. And if not, he was pretty sure he remembered the important bits.

Recovering from his shock, Tommy stepped a little closer. “Well- fuck, alright, Tubbo, you’ve got to tell me everything, and I mean everything. How far in the future am I? Have we won the war? Did L’manburg get its independence?”

Tubbo’s throat constricted, and he shoved down the tidal wave of grief so forcefully that his finger tore through one of the pages. “Y-yeah. We do, we- in our timeline, if you want to call it that, we did win.”

“Pog!” Tommy shouted, but that immediate joy faded as he took in Tubbo’s expression. “Tubbo, what’s- what’s wrong, man?”

Tubbo choked on something halfway between a laugh and a sob. “A lot’s changed, man. Sorry, it’s just- it’s good to see you like this again.” 

“What d’you mean? Tubbo, what the fuck happens to me, what the fuck happened to you, your fucking face looks fucking messed up!”

“Yeah, I know. I can’t tell you everything, Tommy, we - the other Tommy and I - agreed that we should only tell you the important stuff to you right now, because hopefully, if you guys manage to change things, you’ll- you know, do better.” Tubbo scrubbed the beginnings of tears from his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “Do better than we did. Hold on, let me find the pages.”

“What the fuck,” Tommy said, repeating those words twice more, shaking his head in disbelief. “I cannot believe this, I actually time traveled? Can I go see L’manburg, how’s everyone doing?” Already forgetting what Tubbo was doing, Tommy began to head toward the exit of his house - at least the dirt structure was familiar, even if it was to the point of being slightly disorientating. If Tubbo wasn’t here, if he didn’t have those huge scars all over his face, Tommy might have thought he hadn’t traveled through time at all.

“Tommy!” Tubbo snapped, voice more authoritative and angry than Tommy had ever heard it. He paused, turning in confusion. Tubbo looked apologetic, but firmly shook his head. “We can’t go see L’manburg. It’ll- it’ll mess up too much, alright? You’re just got to listen to what I tell you.”

“Didn’t know you could speak that mean, big man,” Tommy scoffed, but he left the doors of his home alone and looked to Tubbo. “Alright, lay it on me.”

Tubbo nodded quickly. “First things first, Eret is a traitor. Things are gonna get bad, and he’s going to tell you about this final control room he prepared. It’s a trap, Tommy, do  _ not  _ follow him. It’s how- it’s how we all lose our first lives.”

Tommy’s eyes shot so wide Tubbo thought they might pop out of his head. “Wh- Eret? You’re fucking with me, he- he built our walls, why would he betray us?”

“Dream promises him kingship, I think. Tommy, I’m not fucking with you, don’t- do you think I want things to go the same way for you?” A helpless laugh left Tubbo’s lips as he fought back further tears. “Please, man, just trust me. We’re trying to help.”

Tommy still looked suspicious, though. “Eret. You’re sure.”

“Yeah.” Tubbo reached back in his memory, squinting at the book in front of him for the directions. “It’s next to one of the oak trees by the west wall, if you- if you break away the dirt there, there’s a long, a stone tunnel, and a room made of blackstone, and when Eret led us there, Dream and his side were- they were waiting for us. We couldn’t get out.”

“Is that what happened to your face?” Tommy asked bluntly.

Tubbo shook his head. “No. That- that happens later.”

“Well- alright then, how do we change that? How’d that happen to you?”

“Other things first. It’s more important.” Tubbo swallowed, fingers tearing at yet another page. 

“Wh- how are other things more important? Tubbo-”

“It doesn’t matter right now, Tommy, listen Dream is going to plant TNT under L’manburg, or maybe he already has, you’ve got to dig under the entrance and disarm it so he can’t blow everything up, alright? That’s absolutely crucial, because that’s the last straw before you two have your duel.”

“Wh- a duel?” Distracted momentarily, Tommy’s eyebrows rose in mischievous delight. “Do I win?”

“No,” Tubbo said flatly, and Tommy’s face fell. He began to stammer out another question, but Tubbo forced his own voice above his friend’s. “You lose your second life,” Tubbo shouted. “Please, Tommy, promise me you’re going to take this information seriously. Don’t throw away two of your lives and one of everyone else’s. Promise me.”

“I- I promise,” Tommy stammered, holding out an unscarred pinky finger. Tubbo blinked, and took it with his own ink stained finger. They shook and Tubbo reopened the book, but Tommy spoke before he could again. “Right, now will you tell me what happened to your fucking face? Seriously Tubbo, it looks awful. Fucked up.”

Tommy’s harsh voice was a sharp banging in his head, not so unlike the whistling crack of fireworks Tubbo heard every night. The words on the page blurred in front of him, and he spat out his next words in resignation, in frustration, in exhaustion. “I was executed via a firework launcher under the orders of Emperor Schlatt after giving a speech at the L’manburg Festival.” Bitterness clawed at his throat and eyes as he met Tommy’s shocked and hurt face. “That was my second life. Does that help?”

“Wha-  _ Schlatt? _ Tommy squawked. “But he was banned by Dream, how-”

“Wilbur invites him as an endorsement when you run your election campaign. Don’t let him. Tommy, don’t let Wilbur bring Schlatt back. Everything gets so, so much worse when he does.” This hadn’t been in the plan, but Tubbo couldn’t stop himself. Words came tumbling out in a plea to save his best friend from future pain. “He- you guys lose, and he exiles you and Wilbur, and I get  _ stuck  _ there, and I’m- I’m a spy, I’m a traitor, and Schlatt finds out and he kills me in front of you, in front of everyone.”

The book had fallen on the floor between them, and Tubbo was gripping Tommy’s hand like a lifeline, so tight that he distantly figured it must hurt, but Tommy said nothing about it.

“Please,” Tubbo whispered. “Change the future. Don’t let any of that happen, alright?”

“I won’t, Tubbo.” Tommy’s voice was gravely serious, reminding Tubbo more of the Tommy he knew now. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not “I’ll change it, okay?”

Tubbo nodded wordlessly, inhaling in shuddering breaths as Tommy gathered him in his arms, hugging him tightly. Tubbo clung to him, this Tommy who was just as wiry as Tubbo knew him, but stronger, filled out to what he should be and not the half-starved, gaunt figure that Tubbo had seen during Tommy’s first exile, then again in his second. When they pulled back, Tommy’s eyes weren’t the empty, gray shells that had looked at the bombs that had rained down upon their nation, they were bright blue, shining with nothing less than pure determination. “We’ll fix it, Tubbo. You trust me, right?”

“Of course I do, man.” Tubbo hadn’t felt the texture of the dark blue overcoats in what felt like decades, and he clung to it still, fingers twisting into the fabric that covered Tommy’s wrist. With his free hand, he swiped away more tears, forcing a smile through it. “I trust you.”

“Good, then it’ll all work out. I’ll tell Wilbur about Eret and Schlatt and the TNT, and it’ll all be okay.”

Tubbo nodded, and a fresh rush of worry gripped him, and he held himself back from spilling anymore information that would only scare Tommy about a future that he prayed would never happen. 

“Is there anything else, Tubbo? Is there anything I should know?”

The words perched on the tip of his tongue, but he remembered what Tommy had muttered to him as they were finishing up their plan, reluctant in his admittance. He couldn’t tell this Tommy about Wilbur’s possible downward spiral. It would only lead to an abundance of worry that would freak Wilbur out, and Tommy had feared it would cause Wilbur to crack even earlier, knowing his tragic fate beforehand.

Tubbo opened his mouth to respond in denial, but he blinked, and he was alone. His fingers curled in the air, and there was nothing but the quiet ticking of the clock.

Then Tommy, tear-stained and scarred and everything Tubbo now recognized, appeared, Karl’s hand on his shoulder like they had never left. Karl, for all his bright and bubbly nature, didn’t say a word as Tubbo approached his friend, only stepped back to give them space, retreating with a quiet. “I hope… I hope you guys got what you wanted. I guess… I’ll leave you now. See you around.”

Tubbo barely heard him. His arms were already wrapped around Tommy, supporting his weight as his best friend dropped his head on Tubbo’s shoulder, knobbly knees buckling as his shoulders shook with dry sobs. Tubbo sank to the floor with Tommy, leaning his own head against Tommy’s shoulder and exhaling shakily, unsure if tears could reach his eyes again.

“Did you see him?” Tubbo murmured gently, and when he felt Tommy jerkily nod, he hummed in reassurance, hugging him a little tighter. “Good, I’m glad, big man.” 

|||

Tommy was there, and then he wasn’t.

Wilbur shouted in surprise, nearly bumping his hat against the dirt roof of Tommy’s home as he stood up straight. Tubbo, Fundy, and Eret made similar noises of shock, staring at the spot where Tommy had just been standing and speaking to them all. Wilbur noticed, in the brief silence, that he could hear the subtle ticking of a clock. He had just started to turn and search for the source when Tommy was suddenly there again. But Wilbur felt no joy at the return, only horrified confusion at the near-stranger in front of him.

Tommy was no longer in his revolutionary uniform, and his frame was a lot smaller than Wilbur remembered. His bare arms were wrapped in dirt-stained bandages, stopping at his elbow. His hair had grown, shaggy and nearly covering his eyes, but not enough to obscure the new grayish color of his empty, tired gaze. There was a striking scar on his cheek that Wilbur had never seen before, but it looked months past healing. “Oh my god, it fucking worked.” Tommy’s voice sounded a little deeper, and hoarser than Wilbur had ever heard it. Exhaustion faded to disbelief, and Wilbur tilted his head slightly, staring at the kid he knew so well but now, felt like he knew nothing at all.

For his part, the weariness that Tommy had grown used to carrying faded into the background the instant he locked eyes with Wilbur, whose skin wasn’t gray, who didn’t have that broken, manic look in his eyes. It had been so long since Tommy had seen Wilbur’s face flushed with health, not empty with forgotten memories or gaunt from what Pogtopia had done to them both. Tommy forced himself to take a step back, smiling but silently choking on air, knowing that the moment Wilbur got close to him Tommy wouldn’t be able to let go. Instead, he looked to the others, fonder memories washing over him as he glanced over their unscarred bodies and clean uniforms. 

“Tommy?” Tubbo asked first, confusion ringing strong in his tone. “Is that- is that you? What- the hell happened to you, where’d you go?”

“Shit, uh, right, of course you guys had no preparation.” Tommy fought back the fresh assault of grief that looking in front of him caused, and focused on Tubbo. It hurt far less, seeing the unblemished skin where he had gotten used to seeing the jagged scar. Tommy took a deep breath. Hopefully, this Tubbo wouldn ever get that scar. “I’m- I’m not your Tommy. Well, I am, but I’m from the fuckin’ future.” Forced joviality bled into his voice. “How ‘bout that, ey? Time travel and shit.”

“What? Tommy, what?” Wilbur demanded in confusion as he approached; Tommy could see him in his peripheral and avoided his gaze. The other three exploded in pandemonium as well, shouting question on top of question until Tommy couldn’t make out a single word. He stammered, trying to pick out an answer, but the din only grew until Wilbur’s sharp voice cut through it. “Alright, men! Outside, all of you. I’ll talk to Tommy- this Tommy - alone. Understood?”

Tommy gulped, twin explosions of fear and joy rattling his chest. None of the others looked happy about it, but they begrudgingly filed out of the house, splitting to the side like Tommy wouldn’t see their shadows from where they pressed up against the outside walls, listening in.

A warm hand touched his shoulder, not tight, but Tommy still flinched back, unsure if it was because of Wilbur or something else entirely. “Hey, big dubs,” he muttered, unable to meet Wilbur’s eyes again, afraid of what he might do if he did.

“Holy shit, how far into the future are you?” Wilbur’s tone was a mixture of confusion and concern, eyes scanning Tommy several times over, taking in each detail that this Tommy had brought with him. “If you’re not- pulling some kind of elaborate prank on me, that is.” His mind desperately searched for the clues that would lead to that truth, as if it explained the sudden scar, the way Tommy seemed unable to look at him, and the way he was repressing flinches from Wilbur’s touch. 

“Not pulling a prank,” Tommy shook his head, exhaling shakily with a quiet laugh. “Fuck, I can’t believe that actually worked, I’ll be honest, I really wasn’t sure.” It took a second for the other question to register, and when it did, Tommy shrugged. “A while. Don’t want to give you the exact details, but it’s been quite a bit since I’ve seen those uniforms. I lost mine, you know. Ages ago- well for me, it was ages ago, when we-” his face froze, and Wilbur watched his younger brother’s eyes flash with emotion before inhaling sharply. “Yeah. Had to lose mine.”

“Well- are you alright, Tommy? Can you tell us what happens to us?”

“Those are two very different topics, my friend,” Tommy responded snarkily. “But as for the second question, your Tommy will be back with that information, as long as Tubbo does his job right. He’ll know what to do to get things to change, so listen to him, alright?”

“Of- of course I will, Tommy, he’s- you’re my right hand man, of course I’ll listen to your ideas.”

Tommy, who had just started to straighten to look at Wilbur, pressed his lips into a trembling line. “Right. Don’t just treat me- him as a stupid child, alright? Especially not this time. He’s got way better information now, so it’s- it’ll be useful, you know?”

Wilbur’s brow creased, unsure why Tommy sounded so tentative and defeated. “Of course. You- you know you’re not a stupid kid, right? I’m just playing the bit when I do that. You’ve done a lot for the revolution, and I’m really proud of you.”

“Ah,” Tommy’s lips turned up, his grin brittle and bitter. “Should probably tell the Tommy you know that a bit more, it’s a bit too late for me to hear that I think. Who knows, might save him from some, you know, “emotional trauma” or whatever they call it.” With his bandaged fingers, Tommy made air quotes, keeping the grin steady on his face.

His tone was identical to every other joke Tommy had ever made, but it only served to worry Wilbur further. “What? Tommy, what- are you telling me in the future you’re traumatized?”

“No,” Tommy lied instantly. But he quickly crumbed under the severe look from his brother that he hadn’t seen in months, so he shrugged, determined to keep his story as lighthearted as possible for Wilbur’s sake. “I mean, we’re in the middle of a war, big man. Losing two lives in the span of a week takes a toll on a guy, what can I say.” He knew that wasn’t the real issue, but there was no way he was telling Wilbur about what happened to him. It would, at best, freak him out, and at worst, destroy him. Tommy wanted to do everything he could to keep this Wilbur from meeting the same fate his Wilbur had. 

“What?” Wilbur exploded.

“I feel like that’s the only thing you start your sentences with anymore, big man. Try some variety, why don’t you?” Bickering felt natural, despite the way that Tommy’s chest twinged with each new memory of Wilbur he gained.

But Wilbur wasn’t playing along. “Two lives, Tommy, that’s- how the fuck do you lose two lives?”

Tommy fixed him with a flat look, shrugging. Wilbur hated how empty his grayish eyes continued to look. “That’s just the price of war, Wilbur. But it won’t happen again, that’s what Tubbo and I are making sure of, alright? You won’t have to worry once we get that sorted, probably. Hopefully.”

“Tommy, what happens- happened, to you?” Wilbur murmured. “Where did that scar come from, why- what happened?” His hand stretched out, tracing over the healed over groove in Tommy’s face. 

The teen stayed stock still, staring at some nothing over Wilbur’s shoulder. “I’ll be honest, I don’t… I don’t remember. It all blurred for me after a while. You think that’s bad, you should see Tubbo.” As soon as he said that, his eyes focused and his face drained of even more color. “I mean- fuck, shouldn’t have said, it’s not going to happen again, it’s not. Don’t worry about that. Sorry.” 

“Tommy, I am worried. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be,” Tommy insisted. “Well- don’t worry about me, specifically. Worry about the other Tommy, even if he tells you he’s fine. I’ve gotten by without you for a while now, but the other me needs you. So don’t you dare fucking leave him, alright? In any sense of the word, I don’t care, just don’t.” Tommy’s voice cracked, dropping to a sharp whisper as he pointed a shaking finger at his brother.

“A-Alright, Tommy,” Wilbur stammered, mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion as he wondered what the actual fuck happened to this Tommy that led him to this point.

“Right, good.” Tommy exhaled slowly, backing further away and pressing the heels of his palms to his face for a brief moment, groaning before snapping back up straight, pulling out a chipped communicator with a slight spider web of cracks across the screen.

Wilbur’s throat felt dry. “I didn’t even know those things could crack. What the hell did you do to it?”

Tommy blinked, looking at the cracks like he was seeing them for the first time. “I think I might have been trying to break it on purpose, so no one could… y’know.”

“I don’t know, actually,” Wilbur responded, his easy tone balanced against the mild concern in his voice.

“Well- good.” Satisfied with whatever he had read, Tommy shoved the communicator back in his pocket. “You know, as weird as it is, I’m glad that me and the other Tommy don’t actually have to see each other. If I knew exactly how I turned out in the future I reckon I’d have a proper freakout.”

Wilbur’s confusion and mild frustrations mounted, piled upon by Tommy’s false casual way of speaking, the big details he continued to skirt around, and the changes he refused to, or couldn’t address. “I’m kind of freaking out, Tommy!” he insisted. “This is something really strange, and it’s really important, and you just- you won’t tell me anything! Anything at all!”

“Well maybe that’s ‘cause I don’t want to!” Tommy roared back, just as fierce. “I don’t want to be the messenger boy, that’s what the other Tommy is for, I just wanted to fucking see you again!”

It was silent. Tommy’s jaw was trembling, hands clenched in fists at his sides. Wilbur blinked, and a few pieces slotted into place.

“Tommy,” he spoke with fearful certainty, hands shaking. “Tommy, am I dead in your future?”

“Yeah,” Tommy muttered after a long moment. “I wasn’t- wasn’t going to tell you, but yeah. You are.”

“How?”

Tears dripped down Tommy’s flushed cheeks. “I’m not going to say. I don’t want to say. So I won’t.”

The familiar stubbornness was enough to bring a slight. soft smile to Wilbur’s lips, despite the gut-wrenching realization that sent a chill through his body. “But you think we’ll be able to change it, this time around?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said again. “I do.”

“And will it bring me back? Your Wilbur, I mean, back to your time?”

Tommy shook his head, wiping tears from his face with those stained bandages on his forearms. Weariness crept back into his voice. “The way the- you know, he’s not here yet, but the guy who brought me here - explained it, it’ll create like a new… a new timeline for you guys. Won’t affect us, because Tubbo and I- there’s no changing where we’re at now.” Tommy shook his head, his wet eyes meeting Wilbur’s with a brief rueful smile. “But, y’know, maybe you guys will have a better shot. Or you’ll end up even worse off, I don’t know, I really don’t…”

“Jesus, alright, no pressure then,” Wilbur muttered, his nervousness presenting itself in a breathy laugh. “Do you- I know Tommy’s coming back with general information about the future, but do you have… do you have anything I should know? To keep me from, you know, not losing all my fucking lives?”

Tommy tilted his head, regarding him for a moment, and Wilbur silently marveled at how he looked simultaneously more grown up than Wilbur had ever seen and yet just the same kid that Wilbur knew now. “Well, listen to what I say, because I always have the best ideas-- and I mean it seriously this time, I’ll have the information that will change everything, hopefully. But- I don’t know, man, don’t be an idiot?” He thought for a moment longer, and then nodded slightly. “I guess, if anything, I’d say you’ve got to learn to let go.”

“Learn to let go of what?” Wilbur asked, breathlessly.

Tommy shrugged. “Grudges. Betrayals. Land. L’manburg is… well, it’s a people, not a place. Remember that, too. You can always rebuild L’manburg somewhere else, but you can’t replace the people who started it. I would know, I’m irreplaceable.” Punctuated by that familiar sharp grin, Wilbur was thrown by the joke mixed in with the deadly serious advice. But, he supposed, that was just what Tommy was like.

Movement outside caught the attention of both before Wilbur could respond, and a young man in a bright, multi-colored hoodie sprinted into the hut, red-faced with exertion and panting as he came to a stop, leaning over with his hands on his knees. “Sorry,” Karl panted. “This is so close to when I joined that it put me in the spawn forest, I’ve been running…” he coughed, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Sorry. Was that enough time, Tommy?”

“Are you the time traveler?” Wilbur asked immediately, taking a step and placing himself in front of Tommy.

“Yeah, he is. Yeah, I think… I said everything I needed to say. We can go.”

Wilbur looked to his right, slightly behind him. Tommy looked certain, but Wilbur had always been the one who knew him best, and even with this Tommy, different as he was, Wilbur knew he was lying. Tommy wanted something that he wouldn’t verbalize, something that he may as well have been yelling if not for his unmoving lips. 

“Great! Let’s-”

“Hold on.” Wilbur stuck out a hand, barring Tommy from passing. “Can you hold one more minute?”

“Yeah, o-okay…” The time traveler sounded nervous, apprehensive, but he stepped back, leaving the two of them alone again.

“Wilbur? Did you have something else you wanted to ask, big man?”

Wilbur turned, legs crossing the space in two easy steps. He wrapped his arms around Tommy in one fluid motion and drew him into a close hug.

The Tommy that Wilbur knew was not one known to be particularly receptive to hugs. Most attempts to hug his younger brother often led to playful wrestling in the dirt or Tommy squirming out of Wilbur’s hold with a disgusted look on his face, mocking him for being stupid and sappy. Wilbur half expected this Tommy in front of him to do the same.

But instead, Tommy let out a choked noise, arms slamming around Wilbur’s back hard enough that Wilbur had to bite back a groan, but he returned the fierceness in kind. Tommy’s body shook in his hold, not trying to pull away, but pressing as close as possible, clinging to him. At that, Wilbur almost smiled. Despite his protests to the contrary, Tommy had always been clingy. That, at least, hadn’t changed.

The blond’s face was pressed into the edge of the gold shoulder pads, and Wilbur could only make out a few of the words Tommy mumbled tearfully into his coat. All the same, he got the feeling that these words weren’t meant for him to hear, anyways.

Tommy had long since resigned himself to the fact that hugging Wilbur -- the real Wilbur, not the phantom hugs of a far too cheerful ghost -- wasn’t something he would ever get to do again. So he took this opportunity with all he had left in him, and the dam he had repressed behind his heart for so long broke free, tumbling forth in a cascade of words he was barely aware of saying, gasping broken words through lungs that squeezed in protest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Wilbur, I still- I still don’t get it, why did you do it, you fucking asshole, it’s not fair, Wilby, why did you leave, why did you, fuck you, I miss you, I- I-” Tommy choked on a sob, holding together what he still could of himself.

Wilbur heard none of that, focused only on giving his right hand man the comfort that he so obviously needed. He shut his eyes, shoulders rising in laughter only once as he briefly heard the old nickname Tommy had given him when he was far younger and couldn’t pronounce Wilbur’s name correctly. It brought Wilbur’s mind back to sunny days, a young Wilbur leading a false charge against pretend foes, with an even smaller Tommy toddling beside him, determined to keep up with his older brother no matter what. Wilbur hugged Tommy a little closer, and silently promised himself that he would do whatever it took to keep this from happening again. He would change the future, he was more certain of it now than ever.

The hug could have lasted seconds or hundreds of years, and Tommy knew that it would never feel like enough time. So, when he pulled away, he pulled away knowing that, even though it hurt almost as much as seeing Wilbur’s body had. 

Wilbur smiled crookedly at him, eyes kind as he ruffled Tommy’s tangled hair. “You need a haircut,” he said, pretending like his throat wasn’t choked with emotion.

Tommy ducked under it reflexively, but laughed easily. “I know. You’d be on me for it in the future, too, I reckon.”

“You know I would, so you make sure to cut it, okay?”

“I will, I promise.” Tommy held out a pinky finger. “I cut my hair, and you change the future, yeah?”

Wilbur nodded resolutely, and though his serious demeanor was much more fitting for a firm handshake, he took Tommy’s pinky and shook it with just as much gravity. “I promise, Tommy.”

“Good. That’s- that’s good.” Somewhat at a loss for words, Tommy let his hand fall, and he looked at Wilbur for a frozen moment before nodding firmly. “Farewell, Wilbur.” It was a goodbye for every one he hadn’t gotten to say, and he etched the vision in front of him to memory, one final image of his real brother before he returned to the gray-skinned memory of him. 

“Goodbye, Tommy,” Wilbur responded. His hand swung up, and Tommy’s followed, a habit long since fallen out of practice. The two of them gave each other quick salutes, twin grins on their faces.

He stepped back as the time-traveler re-entered, watched him place his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. Then, just as quickly as he had arrived, Tommy was gone, the space around him empty like it had never been occupied at all.

This time, Wilbur greeted the quiet ticking of the clock with a calm smile. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, Tommy was back, mouth open in shock, uniform wrinkled much like Wilbur’s now was. Wilbur had never been more relieved to see those bright blue eyes, free of all the weariness that the future Tommy had been carrying on his shoulders. 

“Can we change it?” Wilbur asked immediately, followed by, “What did the future look like?”

“We’ve got a lot to change,” Tommy said, voice grim with determination, bubbling with hope. “But we can definitely do it. We’ve got to, alright?”

Wilbur nodded, knowing they were talking about two different things, knowing that in the end, it hardly mattered. They shared the same goal. “We will. Tell me what you know.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this bittersweet attempt at a fix-it!  
> comments and kudos are so appreciated mwah  
> find me on twitter @sbimellohi ! i post wips and screams and theories on there, it's a vibe i think


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